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Oscar's Best and Worst Musical Performances

Last year the Oscars was, well, it was something. Coming off the Anne Hathaway and James Franco hosting debacle, we had undead marionette Billy Crystal emceeing the ceremony, doing his signature medley of all the Best Picture nominees as soon as the red carpet pre-show wrapped. That was about it for musical performances, other than the "In Memoriam" reel and some other crazy A. R. Rahman thing that no one really wanted.
That's because there were almost no Best Original Song nominees last year, and neither one was performed. Well, the category is back in full swing, and host Seth McFarlane — who has more jazz hands than a dance school in West Topeka — is sure to do some sort of bombastic production number. Oh, and there's going to be an ode to movie musicals too, featuring Catherine Zeta-Jones, Jennifer Hudson, Anne Hathaway, and the rest of the We Won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress by Singing in a Musical Club.
Musicals numbers are back, so let's take this time to look at the best and worst (and a couple of so-good-they're-bad and so-bad-they're-good) from awards shows past.
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Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
[Photo Credit: AP Photo]
BEST
Beyoncé, Jennifer Hudson, and Anika Noni Rose sing "Love You I Do," "Listen," and "Patience" from Dreamgirls
It's not often that you get this many vocal powerhouses on stage at one time, so when you do, it's best to make the most of it. This 2008 clip (sorry the quality is so crappy, but someone is trying to keep this off YouTube) will go down in Oscar History, even if J Hud was the only one to walk away with the trophy.
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WORST
Snow White and Robe Lowe sing some ungodly creation.
This is the Platonic ideal of an awful Oscar opening number. In 1989, Eileen Bowman played the animated heroine in an odyssey that included dancing stars, Merv Griffin, and a scandal-plauged Lowe singing strange tunes with the words all jumbled around. It's a travesty and you can't take your eyes away. For a full recounting of the whole incident, check out this amazing article.
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BEST
Michael Jackson sings "Ben" from Ben
Look past the cheesy '70s set and the awful glittery jump suit. Forget that this is a song about a man who is in love with his pet rat. When all that goes away, we're left with the pristine quality of Michael Jackson's voice before he messed it up with years of drugs and before he messed up his face with more plastic surgery than a Real Housewives of Everywhere reunion. This is one of those instances where talent gets past all of that, and we still love it.
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WORST
Bjork singing "I've Seen It All" from Dancer in the Dark
I have no problem with the swan dress. In fact, I kind of love that Bjork opted to wear something so different and daring that we still talk about it 12 years later. What I can't abide is her squawking around the stage and stamping her feet and singing this weirdly-cyclical, boring song. I know she can do so much better, and I'm sure most of the audience at home was as befuddled by the performance as they were the attire.
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BEST
Madonna singing "Sooner of Later" from Dick Tracy
Let's face it — it's best that Madonna never win an Oscar for acting. Really, we don't need to give her one more reason to make another movie. But as far as performing at the Oscars go, she is a champion. This is how you can captivate an audience while standing practically still in the middle of a stage. This is Madonna at the height of her fame and prowess in 1991, singing a beautiful Steven Sondheim song that won the Oscar later that night. To prove Madge is Oscar gold, check out her second performance of "You Must Love Me," from Evita. Not as good of a song, but still a top-notch performance.
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WORST
Gwyneth Paltrow singing "Coming Home" from Country Strong
Gwyneth Paltrow thinks that everything about her life is great, including her singing ability. She is often wrong.
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BEST/WORST
Celine Dion singing "My Heart Will Go On" from Titanic
Yes, this is an iconic song. Yes, Celine Dion is a very proficent singer. Yes, in 1997 Ms. Dion was everything and her song won the Oscar. But why do I hate this so much? Why do so many people think that she sounds like a bleating goat standing there on stage with a trillion-dollar diamond (the same one from the movie) on her turtlenecked frame (you can take the girl out of Canada but...)? This is one of those numbers that you either love or hate. I fall in the latter camp.
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BEST
Pilobolus doing God knows what
This isn't exactly a musical number, but there's dancing, so I'm counting it. The members of this dance troupe figured out how to turn their bodies into iconic shapes from the year's movies. I still wonder just how they achieved this fate today. Amazing. Also amazing: Ellen DeGeneres hosted the Oscars. Remember that?
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WORST
Kathleen Bird York singing "In the Deep" from Crash
2003 was a crappy year at the Oscars. Not only did Crash steal a statue from the far superior Brokeback Mountain, we also had to endure this abomination of an New Age song from the film that was nominated for Best Original Song. What do a burning car, slow-motion dancers, and enough dry ice to power every production of Phantom of the Opera in the entire universe have in common? I hate them all.
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BEST/WORST
Sheena Easton singing "For Your Eyes Only" from For Your Eyes Only
This year, one of the highlights of the show will be Adele getting up to sing "Skyfall" from the James Bond flick of the same name. She will wear a tasteful dress and belt for the rafters and everyone will applaud. It will look nothing like this other Bond number from 1981, which features 007 driving on stage and kicking the asses of a bunch of dancing ninjas while his car shoots a laser beams. And can we talk about Sheena's hair which is straight out of one of the worst Nagel paintings I've ever seen. This this is so incredibly awful. Isn't it amazing!? Even with the crappy video quality, you still can't look away. They just don't make camp like they used to. Sure Adele will be nice, but it's not going to be anything like this.
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WORST
Hugh Jackman's Opening Number
I love Hugh Jackman. Of all the celebrities in Hollywood, I would like to see his huge ackman over anyone else's. However, his 2008 stint hosting was marred by this rather dreadful opening number. The joke was that the recession made him scale everything down, which is a cute gag but doesn't work for the whole eight minutes. Combine that with Anne Hathaway giving one of those falsely modest performances that make people hate her and, well, I couldn't even watch it all the way through. However, the joke about not seeing The Reader almost makes the whole thing worthwhile.
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BEST
Neil Patrick Harris' Opening Number
Sorry, Hugh, this is how you bring in the show. NPH, who isn't even really a movie star, is better at the awards show game than just about anyone else. He sings a quick song, does some great dance moves, gets us ready for the show with a big extravaganza and then hands it over to the hosts. Just simply distilled perfection. Leave it to a gay to know how to kick off a show. (I'm sure he's not the one who had the Best Actor nominees come out on stage for one full minute of thunderous applause that they did not need.)
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WORST
"Under the Sea" and "Kiss the Girl" from The Little Mermaid
As soon as you heard that the dancers were choreographed by Paula Abdul, you knew this thing would be a mess. What's so awful about Samuel E. Wright's performance of these two nominated songs ("Under the Sea" won) is that he just stands in the middle of the blank stage for the first one, and for the second one it's like a sea anemone was stuffed with glitter and then exploded. There is an octopus chandelier, tap dancing scuba divers, and more midriffs than all of Britney Spears' early videos combined. The funny part is this looks like an even worse version of Disney's infamous Broadway version of the show, which was also a giant bomb.
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BEST
"Belle" and "Be Our Guest" from Beauty &amp; The Beast
Looks like Disney learned a lot two years after The Little Mermaid, because this two-song medley was much better. The first song is busy and costumey, sort of like the wonderful Broadway version of the show, but then it dissolves into Jerry Orbach (RIP) and some chorus girls doing a top-notch, grounded version of the crowd pleasing "Be Our Guest." Still this wasn't enough to beat the title track for the Oscar, which had a snoozer of a performance (Angela Landsbury can't do a kick line like she used to), but is probably a better song.
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WORST
Three 6 Mafia singing "Hard Out Here for a Pimp" from Hustle and Flow
This isn't a bad song, and is, to its credit, the only hip-hop song to win an Oscar. It's just, well, the Academy ain't got no swag. Sure, this bootleg living room is supposed to be reminiscent of the movie, but it looks like a cast-off from an old season of Roseanne. Plus, Taraji P. Henson in a full-length gown while the rest of the guys wear street clothes makes the whole thing feel just... off. And they can't even say "bitches"! They had to change it to "witches," which is the silliest thing to happen since The Doors couldn't sing "Girl, we couldn't get much higher" on The Ed Sullivan Show.
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BEST
Glen Hansard and Market Iglová singing "Falling Slowly" from Once
Plain and simple: how can you not love everything about this?
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At one point in history, the moniker of jack-of-all-trades was a great compliment. People who could dabble in multiple arenas were highly regarded. Today, crossing over from one professional field into another is not always cause for commendation — at least not in the entertainment world. When a singer or an athlete decides to crossover into acting, we tend to balk at the notion and develop doubts immediately. This is not a prejudice without precedence, as many examples of ill-conceived transitions into attempted movie stardom have left a sour taste in our collective mouths.
The concept of athletes attempting transformation into actors is nothing new. For example, some of the most prominent stars in the blaxploitation movement were NFL stars first; Fred “The Hammer” Williamson was a defensive back and Jim Brownwas a running back. Over the last few years, former WWE wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has successfully crossed over from being “the most electrifying man in sports entertainment” to being a major box office draw.
What is the secret of The Rock’s success?
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As much as we cast aspersions on WWE wrestlers aiming to become movie stars, in many ways they are specially equipped to make the switch. More so than any other sport, wrestling is as much about theatrical performance as it is about athletic prowess. Wrestlers create personas for themselves, characters really, and then move those characters through a series of designated storylines. It’s scripted entertainment much like film. In fact, wrestlers often have to improvise both their dialogue during interviews and movements during matches. From a cinematic performance standpoint, that ability is a valuable asset.
Johnson is hardly the first wrestler to attempt this tricky maneuver. The likes of Hulk Hogan and Rowdy Roddy Piper are among those who had previously tried this with limited success. Hogan made a series of dreadful b-movies in the ‘80s and Piper similarly became a cult movie icon for his turns in films like They Live and Hell Comes to Frogtown. But even Hulkster and Piper can’t boast the kind of mainstream film prominence that The Rock has enjoyed.
The biggest difference between Dwayne Johnson and Hulk Hogan is that Johnson remained focused enough in his film career to fight through the novelty. The draw to any Hulk Hogan movie was that it would just be Hulk Hogan’s in-ring character doing a series of whacky things in different settings. The Rock, on the other hand, made an earnest effort to develop characters within each new project using his previously honed skills, as opposed to just porting over a persona from his wrestling days. This might also explain why he has been so adamant about shedding his WWE nickname and just being billed as Dwayne Johnson.
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That’s not to say The Rock has never had a film that flopped, but he’s also been able to select plenty of projects that amplify his natural leading man attributes. One the hand, he recognizes that the action genre is a natural arena for wrestlers-turned-actors; making fake fights appear real is WWE tradecraft. Where The Rock has the edge on, for example, Stone Cold Steve Austin, who is currently appearing in several direct-to-video action films, is that he also utilizes his innate and wonderful sense of humor. The guy is just plain funny. He’s still the only athlete to ever host SNL twice, and no small part of that is his outstanding comedic timing. This is the reason The Rundown, which combined action and laughs, is the optimal Rock project. Even as recently as Fast Five, he’s adeptly applied this combination.
But above everything else, beyond all the occupational roots that allowed for a smooth transition, Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has proven to be a box office draw—with staying power—due to his abundance of charisma. The camera loves this guy, and it doesn’t matter if that camera is shooting a movie or a live wrestling event. He commands the screen for more reasons than just his physical presence. Hulk Hogan may have been blessed with a larger-than-life personality, but Johnson is effortlessly charming in a way that engenders an admiration within a wide audience. It is this charisma that has allowed this former athlete to become an actor who has outlived the gimmick of his crossover, and therefore the reason he has four movies coming out in 2013 alone.
[Photo Credit: Hollywood.com Illustration]
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In August, Oscar Pistorius shattered the preconceived notions we held for disabled athletes by becoming the first Paralympian to compete in an Olympic Games. Then, six months later, he shattered the pedestal on which we placed him by allegedly murdering his girlfriend, Reeva Steenkamp. On Tuesday, Pistorius appeared at the Magistrate Court in Pretoria, South Africa in a bail hearing for charges of premeditated murder, a crime that carries a mandatory life sentence.
As reported by the New York Times, Pistorius said in a sworn affidavit read by his defense lawyer, Barry Roux, "I fail to understand how I could be charged with murder, let alone premeditated. I had no intention to kill my girlfriend. I deny the aforesaid allegation in the strongest terms."
"It filled me with horror and fear," the Associated Press reports Pistorius said in the statement."I am acutely aware of violent crime being committed by intruders entering homes. I have received death threats before. I have also been a victim of violence and of burglaries before. For that reason I kept my firearm, a 9 mm Parabellum, underneath my bed when I went to bed at night."
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Pistorius continues, "As I did not have my prosthetic legs on and felt extremely vulnerable, I knew I had to protect Reeva and myself."
Pistorius claims it was not until after he fired that he realized Steenkamp was no longer in their shared bed. At which time he pulled on his prosthetics and tried to kick down the bathroom door, a task that ultimately required the aid of a cricket bat.
"She died in my arms," Pistorius said. "We were deeply in love and I could not be happier. I know she felt the same way. She had given me a present for Valentine's Day but asked me only to open it the next day."
As is the way of court cases, the prosecution has their own version of events. Led by Gerrie Nel, the prosecution accuses Pistorius of pulling on his prosthetic legs and walking approximately 20 feet to from his bedroom to the bathroom before he fired four rounds into the locked door — three of which hit Steenkamp — with the sole intention of killing his girlfriend.
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While Roux maintains, “All we really know is [Steenkamp] locked herself behind the toilet door and she was shot," according to the New York Times, Nel thinks this is enough. "She locked the door for a purpose. We will get to that purpose," he said.
Nel adds, "If I arm myself, walk a distance and murder a person, that is premeditated. The door is closed. There is no doubt. I walk seven meters and I kill." According to the AP, Nel says, "It is our respectful argument that 'pre-planning' or premeditation do not require months of planning."
Of course, Pistorius' fate is not up to us — a judge (the South African court system does not include juries) will ultimately decide his innocence or guilt. But long before we arrive at a verdict, Pistorius' reputation will have been marred forever — indeed, it already has. For fans, he is no longer a symbol of triumph over adversity, an inspiration, or a hero. In just six months he has gone fallen from our good graces, joining Lance Armstrong, Michael Vick, and Tiger Woods in the land of scorned sports stars.
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Ironically, as Pistorius was gaining fame worldwide, Lance Armstrong was becoming infamous thanks to allegations of doping (to which he has now admitted). Inspired by Armstrong's PR nightmare, Hollywood.com's own Brian Moylan wrote, "We simply can't believe anything we see anymore. Even when we find a hero (or think we do), we can't hold on to him (or her) for long. The only thing that's real anymore is our longing for something that is authentic – and that's because no one is giving it to us."
Of course, Pistorius isn't in quite the same boat as Armstrong — on the one hand, his athletic triumph is still intact: he didn't knowingly dupe the public or cheat in his impressive athletic feats. Of course, the charges Pistrorius faces are much more severe than Armstrong's, and, if true, much more horrific. But the way the public feels is much the same. Once again, we find we put our hopes and dreams in a man who has let us down. Now that Pistorius is behind bars, we can never view him in a light of pure admiration. In the days and weeks that follow, and Pistorius' trial continues to make headlines, we will no longer be able to look at him with rose-colored glasses. Those have forever been shattered.
Follow Abbey on Twitter @AbbeyStone
[Photo Credit: AP Photo]
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It's hard to care about today's news that Khloe Kardashian may have gotten fired from her gig co-hosting Fox's repetitive singing show The X Factor. That's like getting news that your 92-year-old grandmother, who has been in a coma for six months, just got a little bit worse. We can all see the ending coming, we're just all hoping its as graceful as it can be.
However Simon Cowell the creator of the show (or, more aptly, the man who microwaved American Idol's leftovers and tried to pawn it off as a whole new meal) is not going gently into that good night. The show has been officially renewed for a third season, but what can we expect? The shell of a shell of a shell, that's what. Simon, just let it go already. This was a failure, and it's only going to get worse.
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The news about Khloe just highlights the problem with the show: nothing Fox or the producers threw at us worked. They booted original host Steve Jones, a British dental hygiene ad with about as much personality, after the first low-rated season and got a Kardashian and a Mario Lopez. That was sure to work! Who doesn't love these two?! That will get viewers! It didn't.
Then Britney Spears was brought on as a judge to add some star wattage. She was supposed to fill Paula Abdul's spot as the unpredictable one that people tuned in to see possibly slump over in her seat for no discernible reason. And after countless articles about who the hosts would be and speculation in all sorts of directions, Demi Lovato was brought on to bring the kids, something that Nicole Scherzinger couldn't do in Season 1. It didn't work. Season 2 premiered to dismal ratings and it didn't get any better.
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It seems like no amount of money or any tricks of the trade will work for the show. There are only so many weapons in the singing competition show arsenal and changing the hosts and the judges are about it. Still, while these switches may keep interest up during the off season there is little proof that they work. Even after adding Mariah Carey and Nicki Minaj to Idol this season the ratings are still sagging. If Simon Cowell could get Justin Bieber, the remaining members of the Beatles, and the ghost of Michael Jackson to host, Season 3 still won't be a hit. America just doesn't care about X Factor the same way that our British cousins do. Britney is calling it quits and so is L.A. Reid, the only host who survived the culling after Season 1. Right now Cowell is the only one confirmed to be back on the panel and that's only because he refuses to fire himself.
That means this spring is sure to set off a flurry of new speculation about who will host and who will judge . We don't care. We really don't. It's already hard enough to care about the ever-shifting dynamics of Idol to be able to care about this show too, one that most people never watched anyway. And all those articles and all that stunt casting isn't going to help. Neither is bringing back Cheryl Cole the beloved host of the British version who got sacked before the first season State-side because Fox was worried that Americans wouldn't understand her accent. That is not going to work. Nothing is going to work. Like your grandmother in the coma you can hope every day that her eyes will pop open and she'll be as good as new, but that doesn't mean that science is on your side. Or luck or probability or good sense.
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The problem is that this is a knock-off show in an already saturated market. The Voice has already picked up the remainder of the audience that wants to watch a singing show other than Idol and there's not room for anything else. I know it's got to be hard to say you're wrong, Simon, but it's time to let X Factor die. It's the humane thing to do.
[Photo credit: Fox]
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You know how they say the anticipation is greater than the act? I don't think "they" (whoever they are) are talking about that tingling sensation you get in your undies when you're making out with a new person and you know it's going to go there, and then you get there and, well, the fireworks were more like a damp sparkler that you found in the back of the shed and lit with a match. They weren't talking about that. They were talking about Lisa Vanderpump's annual Tea Party of Death on The Real Rose Swillers of Petit Four Junction. The event was all anticipation and then when we got there, it was like Debbie Downer's quinceañera.
God, this whole episode was just a bunch of bluster, like a wind filling a plastic bag (and not in that cute American Beauty way, but like when it blows against your leg on a windy day and you can't shake it off). What even happened before the party? Kyle's clothes fell all over the floor because she has so much clothing that it can't even fit in her gargantuan closet, so she needs to have it on a nasty little rack in the hallway. It's as if her master suite doubles as a thrift store somewhere on Melrose that specializes in blouses where the sleeves won't close all the way. Then Kyle, looking like a space priestess from a '70s B-movie, went over to visit Lisa Vanderpump and the two have to talk it out. Kyle thinks that Lisa is holding a grudge against Kyle for when Kyle didn't defend her against Adrienne saying that Lisa sells stories to the tabloids. (Oh, man, I had to take a big breath to get all of that out.) Lisa thinks that, yes, her problem is exactly that Kyle won't stick up for her and now she can't trust Kyle and she is mad that Kyle didn't defend Lisa against St. Camille, saying that Lisa doesn't own her restaurants. (Oh, another deep breath.)
Yes, this is all true and Kyle should just admit she was wrong and feels bad about it and let the two of them move on. Of all the Housewives, Lisa is usually one of the most game and forgiving. Also, she is everyone's favorite and getting on her bad side isn't the best bit of business for Ms. Richards-Umansky. Revealingly, Kyle also said that "friendships are like a balancing act." No, Kyle, friendships are not like that. People don't have to balance who is right and who is wrong or who they like better or who they want to ally with. Housewives have to do that. And it's only a balancing act for Kyle because she has the inexplicable need to have everyone like her all the time which, ultimately, makes her kind of unlikeable. So while she's going around trying to make sure everyone is happy and gets along, she just creates more drama. The funny thing is, she's never in the center of the drama. She's like the wizard in the Sorcerer's Apprentice, flailing her arms about in her castle, making the tides rage and flood and the lightening crash all around her.
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We interrupt this recap to bring you the latest episode of At Home with Yolanda Bananas Foster. On this week's episode, Yolanda Banana's Foster, America's premiere agoraphobic gourmand, actually left her house. She took her daughter Bella riding and she jumped all around the dressage gates on Lego, a steed not named after plastic blocks but what Yolanda makes her children to do Eggo waffles. Oh, poor Yolanda. If only she could afford three or four horses for her daughters like the other moms at the equestrian school. Yolanda invited over her friend Brandi, who is worried about going to a tea party. Yolanda told her what to wear, what sort of cakes to make, and how she can introduce the Master Race Cleanse into conversation. She gave Brandi seven magic lemons to bring to the tea party.
Then Yolanda used her greatest power as a hostess, the power of perception. Lately she has been able to see into the souls of the women on this show with a clarity that is usually reserved for psychics and reality television bloggers. She said, "Adrienne, Queen of the Maloofs (which I hear are a race of mole people who live under the mountain), is an insecure person who is using her status to intimidate people." That's it. That is it right there. That is all you need to know about Adrienne — wrap it up, send it to the Post Office, and set it on fire. We're done here. Thank you Yolanda, for summing it up so nicely. Then Brandi pleaded for Yolanda to come to the tea party with her. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I can't. David and I are going out of the country." And that concludes this week's episode of At Home with Yolanda Bananas Foster.
Okay, so everyone showed up at Lisa's Tea Party, starting with Brandi, who is girding her loins for her first interaction with Adrienne since Adrienne maybe or maybe not sued her for maybe possibly saying that Adrienne, I don't know, kind of allegedly had her children through a surrogate? The widow Armstrong showed up next and all she could talk about is how Lisa's tea party last year ended up being all about the abuse in her life. Poor Taylor, in her big black Victorian mourning costume with the black fringe and the bustle — it's hard to be her with her ebon parasol propped up against her shoulder. She is only living the glory of her past last season when it was all about her. Even when Kyle brings up the annual White Party later in the afternoon (oh my god, is it time for the White Party again already?!), Taylor says, "Remember last year when you told me I couldn't come in?!" It's always "remember last year" with this one. No wonder there is discussion that she won't be coming back.
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There is an amusing little interlude during which Brandi takes the Widow Armstrong on a tour of Villa Rosa, Lisa's "pink house," and they linger in Lisa's closet like they're Jodie Foster and the Golden Globes aren't happening any time in the near future. This thing is a modern marvel right up there with the Burj Dubai, the Golden Gate Bridge, and Yolanda Bananas Foster's refrigerator. Who gets to have a room like this? Only Lisa. The rest of us stand jealous for eternity.
Brandi and Lisa and the Widow Armstrong and St. Camille were all hanging out with Fetch, who was there because, ugh, I guess she has to be, when the Holy Triumvirate of Terror arrived: Kyle, Adrienne, and the morally corrupt Faye Resnick, who wasn't even invited. Is it just me or does Faye Resnick look just like an orc from a Lord of the Rings movie? She's like an orc in a wig. The big drama is that Lisa did not invite Faye and she showed up anyway, which is the only way that Faye ever gets to attend parties. She was rather well-behaved though, even though she looked down her nose at everyone. It's not that she thinks she's better than them (she does), it's just that her nose has been shaved and her eyes pulled tight so many times that she is forced, anatomically, to look down her nose at the world.
Everyone sat down and Lisa really wanted everyone to get along for some reason. God, don't these ladies know how these things go? Adrienne was just as deluded, saying, "This really isn't the place to discuss my issues with Brandi." Really? It's not? Well, then what the hell are you doing here? So everyone just sat there and seethed and gritted through their teeth like they're trying to hold in a Guinness Book of World Records fart. Finally Taylor lets it out, making some snide remark about how Adrienne sues everyone. That was the key that opened that whole door.
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Lisa made a big show about getting Brandi and Taylor to follow her away from the table and they go and stand in front of Jax and Peter, who are there to lure the women with their big muscles and remind all of us to watch The Vanderpump Chronicles. Lisa told Taylor and Brandi to knock it off and don't stir trouble and Brandi was like, "Double you, tee, eff, Lisa. I'm behaving!" And she was! Back at the table the ladies were already talking s**t about Brandi and Adrienne is all like, "I'm not suing her. Is she saying I'm suing her? I'm not suing her."
So Lisa, Brandi, and Taylor all sat back down and Taylor goes right back to it. What is her horse in this race? Why does Taylor care? Why is she stirring this up? If Adrienne and Brandi want to ignore each other and pretend it's not happening, why is she pressing the issue? It makes no sense to me.
Alright, the rest of the argument went like this: Brandi says Adrienne is suing her and Adrienne says, "No, that's not true." Okay, this is a lawyer trick. Adrienne is saying, "I'm not suing you," and she means she has not filed an actual lawsuit. Brandi says that Adrienne's lawyer sent Brandi's lawyer a letter and I honestly believe that is true. It isn't a lawsuit, per se, but it is the threat of one. That is just as bad and Adrienne doesn't understand how that is harassment. And still she feigns innocent like she has no idea what is happening.
The next item on the agenda is that Adrienne is upset about a Twitter that Brandi Twittered about how Bernie, Adrienne's a**hole chef who hates Lisa, is going around trying to sell stories to the tabloids about Brandi. Brandi denies Twittering the Twitter. Okay, well, Bravo handily provides the Twitter for us on the screen so we can see that Brandi Twittered it. (Hey, Bravo, where is the copy of the letter Brandi's lawyer got so we can determine whether or not that is true? Why are you on Adrienne's side?) Adrienne says this story is not true. I don't know who to believe. I believe that Brandi thinks this is true and if it is, I don't blame her for fighting against it. And she has nothing but Adrienne's word that it isn't true. Why should Brandi take Adrienne's word on anything?
What the whole fight came down to is this: Brandi saying, "You sued me!" and Adrienne saying, "Nuh uh! Twitter!" and then Brandi replying, "Nuh uh! Bernie!" and Lisa saying, "Nuh uh! You should be ashamed of yourself! Ashamed." That was the whole fight. We are now adult humans discussing, at length, a fight about a Twitter about whether or not someone's personal chef sold a story about someone to a tabloid. I sort of wish the Widow Armstrong would finally snap and blow them all away with a shotgun. I mean, this is just getting tedious. But then it all ended and on her way out, Kyle said, "Don't forget about the White Party next week, everyone. Byesies!!" My heart was once again full of joy.
Just as Lisa is cleaning up... oh, hahaha. Lisa never cleans up anything. Just as Lisa is standing over the table watching the maid clean up the finger sandwiches and tea cups and little frosted cakes that no one ever ate, the phone rings. She rushes inside with that Carrie Bradshaw trot that you can do only when running in high heels and a tight skirt. She answers the phone while it's still on the wall and puts it on speaker like it's an intercom. "Lisha, it's Kim," Kim says, slurring through the phone. "I can't make the party because, well, I got hit in the face. Well, not, like, hit. I was on my way there and I got hit, not by a car or a person, but my new dog. He, like, jumped up and hit me in my face, but it wasn't a hit, it was more like a really hard lick, but I still have my nose bandage and, well, now that I got hit I just need to lie down. Lisa, I need to lie down so I can't make it. I might have taken seven pain pills too. And some wine. Just a little because I had nothing else in the house and the dog told me I should have some wine and so I did and, well, Lisa. Hi. It's Kim. I got hit in the face by my dog and, oh, no, my nose is fine. I knows that everyone knows my nose is fine. But I got hit in the face by my dog and I can't come."
Lisa was a little concerned. Kim was up to her old tricks again, calling up and making strange excuses as to why she couldn't show up to places. Lisa stood on her back patio looking out on the long city before her. Like she was on a mountain top, the green hills unfolded all around, the houses knitted in their nooks like barnacles on the scraped bottom of a ship. She scoops up her dog Giggy and rubs his fur. She thinks about all of them, Kim in her Sad Valley Ranch with empty bottles, both of the liquor variety and the orange plastic kind, scattered around her. She thinks of Adrienne with her mouth twisted into a pout riding in the back of her limosine. She thinks of Faye the party crasher and Kyle the appeaser. Mostly, she thinks of Brandi, who rushed out of there injured once again. She thinks of Brandi, so strong in public, with tears streaming down her face as she winds around the curves toward her house, crying in frustration. She thinks of them all and wonders, in this great expanse of land, if there is anyone else who will ever understand her. Just as she's coming to an answer, Giggy jumps out of her arm and runs across the lawn, letting out a bark at something that is not there.
Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
[Photo credit: Evans Vestal Ward/Bravo]
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You knew it was only a matter of time before perfect little Lady Mary would have her perfect little cherub child that she can order around and tell what to do and make it's life absolute living hell. Well, she's not officially pregnant yet, but the foreshadowing was so dark it makes the middle of the night look like a florescent light bulb show room. Matthew and Mary are going to conceive the once and future heir of Downton Abbey and the rest of us are just going to have to deal with their perfection.
But last night there were plenty of things to both love and hate, as there always are. Before Ethel gets back out there selling her body for tuppence, let's have a look at all of them, shall we?
LOVE
Lady Edith's Wardrobe: I don't know if she's catching up with the times, using the money she's making from her burgeoning journalism career on clothes, or getting rid of poor old Sir Anthony Strallan has finally made her hip and young, but Lady Edith is looking better than ever. Whether it's her orange dresses that flatter her coloring, this demure and professional ensemble she wore to meet her editor for the first time, or the lovely lavender frock she wore to Sybil II: The Revenge's christening, this girl is working it out.
"Stick It Up Your Jumper": This is a phrase that Anna uses to tell someone to go shove it and I'm going to find a way to bring it back into the modern vocabulary. This is my "fetch" and I am going to make it happen. At first I thought it was "stick it up your dumper," which would be gross and vulgar but also a great way to tell someone to shove something you don't want up their ass. I wish I could tell Julian Fellows to stick the Bates in prison storyline up his dumper. As far as favorite expressions go, Bates telling Jimmy, "don't be a big girl's blouse about it," was a very close second.
Edith Throwing Shade: Edith's stock is certainly on the rise. Not only did Mary and Violet both ask her for mysterious favors when she went into London, but she also finally expressed to her dreamy new editor that she's sort of sick of her sister Mary. When he said her sister looked radiant in her wedding announcement but that Edith also looked good she replies, "It's a relief that I'm not an object of pity to the entire world." Oh, Edith, laugh at yourself before everyone else does. But she has no reason to be sour. She was wonderful at the jazz club and investigating the man she wants to be her love. She's going to be a modern city girl yet.
Violet's Night with the Tradesmen: When Branson's jerkface brother ate dinner upstairs with the fancy people, Violet told a story about taking a train home from the north of England in a blizzard when it stopped and she and some other highborn folks had to spend an evening dining with some "tradesman." I can just imagine how awesome this was and in my mind she got totally wasted with them and traded barbs and beat them all at cards and hiccuped and drank more shots while they were all passed out in the hay as the fire roared and glared all their faces with the orange glow. If they ever make a prequel movie about Violet, I want this to be the only story in it.
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Violet Has All the Answers: Speaking of Violet, what would everyone in Downton do without her (and what are they going to do in the inevitable near future when she goes up to the great drawing room in the sky?). Violet solved Ethel's problems and got her a new job and close to her son. She figured out how to get Branson back in Downton and her great granddaughter closet to her faimly. She one-upped Isobel, which is always good for a laugh, she got Edith to do her bidding and convinced her to get a job in London, and she did all of this while still having time to change into her cricket whites and entertain everyone on the sidelines with her banter. For a woman who is retired, she sure has plenty to do.
Thomas Standing Up for Himself: When Thomas gets caught in a sticky situation (though probably not as sticky a situation as he was hoping for), everyone just expects him to roll over (but not in the way he was hoping for) and get fired and take it like a man (again, not how he was hoping for). But no, he does not. When Mr. Carson calls him disgusting he says that he is not and that he won't hear anything like that. Thomas may be loathsome, but at least he doesn't loathe himself. I also give Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Bates, and Lord Grantham credit for sticking up for him. No one wants to say that a homosexual is acceptable, but they all said, in their little way, that as long as what he is doesn't have any negative effects on them, he can go on being it quietly. In those days, "don't ask, don't tell" was quite a victory indeed.
Bates New Ensemble: It took the man going to jail and getting a new suit to be the most dapper thing on the planet. Good for him! Speaking of which, while he looked amazing all dolled up, Anna looked great with her hair down — for a change — when they were painting their shabby little cottage. I hope to see her off-duty look more often.
Everything About Rose: We need to talk for a minute about cousin Rose, who is like the Sammy Jo character from Dynasty all over again. (PS – what do we have to do to get Heather Locklear on this show?) Rose is young, pretty, stupid, flirty, deceptive, and a whole heap of trouble. She is my favorite kind of girl. She cooks up a scheme to get out of the country and macking on her married lover in a jazz club in London so quickly that it made Bates' stay in prison seem like it took an entire season. Oh wait, it did. Anyway, that Rose is into Le Jazz Hot and stays out all night and I just have to love her and hope that she's going to be back at Downton ruffling feather and messing things up in the seasons to come.
Aunt Rosamond: She's no cousin Rose, but a little dose of Aunt Rosamond is always welcome. Who doesn't love the family gossip who is always down for a bit of intrigue?
Lord Grantham Is Like John Boenher: The master of the house (try to read that without getting the Les Mis song stuck in your head) has been an absolute devil this year. He's just a reactionary jerk who wants everything to go back to the way it used to be even though the way things used to be is classist, wrong, awful, and is keeping everyone from being happy. That's not really something to love, but what I love is that he feels all these things and tries to weild his considerable power, but no one listens to him and he gets nothing done. Who does that sound like? Republican Speaker of the House John Boehner. They're basically the same person, except Boehner has a fake tan and cries more. And Lord Grantham dresses more modernly.
Bye Bye Ethel: Thank god she is gone for good. Can we focus on something else for a change?
Thomas Screwed Everyone Over: Thomas sure had a rough time of it last night. O'Brien turned on him, he almost lost his job, then Jimmy went after him and he almost couldn't get a reference, and he would have been traveling to India to lug tea with a cousin of his. But Bates, Mrs. Hughes, and Lord Gratham all stepped up for him (mostly because he's good at cricket) and not only did he end up with a job, but with a better job. That means O'Brien will have to suffer his revenge, Carson will have to train him, the other male staff members will have to defer to him and Alfred (who tried to get him arrested) lost his gig as first footman to keep Jimmy happy now that Thomas is staying. It seemed like he was going to be the one ousted but he ended up screwing everyone in the end (not in the way he hoped).
Everyone in Purple at the Christening: Finally mourning is over and we are out of black and into matching Easter pastels. I couldn't be happier, but I didn't know the Catholic church allowed outfits so festive.
Violets Quip of the Week: "You can not want your only granddaughter to grow up over a ga-rage with that drunken gorilla."
HATE
Bates Prison Story: This is my last time to bitch about how awful this story is, so I'm going to take it. It was dumb. And we still don't even know what happened, exactly. He went to prison, people didn't like him, so they kept him from the outside world. Then he hid some weird paper thing from the guards and then everyone liked him again and the next thing you know he's free. It didn't make any sense. And what was that stupid paper thing anyway? And it's not like anything changed after his stint in prison. He's still the same old Bates. He says that prison changed him but he's back skulking around doorways and eavesdropping on conversations just as sure as the first day he was on the job. Why the hell did this have to take so long? Sybil can get sick and die in one episode but we have to wait an entire season for a nonsense prison plot to unravel? This was the worst.
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Stupid Ivy: I thought there wasn't a kitchen maid dumber than Daisy and then I met Ivy. Sure Jimmy is cute and all, but why would she choose him over the delightful ginger giant Aflred is beyond me, especially when Jimmy clearly isn't into her. The only time he flirts with her is when he's overcompensating for everyone thinkin he's gay. Alfred is hot, he wants you, and he will be good for you. Why are you ignoring him, Ivy? I hope that next season there is a whole plot where Daisy hates him and decides to poison Ivy.
Thomas is a Rapist: I know that O'Brien pushed him to it and he really wanted to think that Jimmy loved him, but even if he thought he was going to be into some man on man action, why did he have to go and rape Jimmy in his sleep like that? I would love to make out with Thomas and I probably would have had the same reaction if I woke up with another man in my grill like that. What ever happened to lighting some candles or moonlight strolls or something romantic like that?
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Cora and Robert Make Up: Again, we had to endure an entire season of Bates in prison and Cora and Robert make up over night without even a mention of it. Cora blamed her husband for killing their daughter and one little intervention from the doctor and everything is hunky dory like a David Bowie album. Oh please.
Bad Shirtlessness: We have waited all season to see Jimmy shirtless and they blow it with him bathing and running across the room holding his shirt in front of his torso. When we finally get Branson out of his bulging undershirt they better not bungle this in the same way.
Cricket: God, this whole stupid match seemed so arbitrary and tacked on. It was fun when they did things like this season one — where each episode was a bit more self contained, so some drama about the flower show was charming — but in what was the last episode of the season in Britain to interject this cooked up cricket match just seemed superfluous. And we don't even find out who wins! The only thing we know is that Mosely loses, and that is a pretty good reason to have anything, but couldn't they have done better than cricket? God.
Edith's Lover Has a Crazy Wife: What the hell is this? Jane Eyre?
Matthew and Mary Go Behind Each Other's Backs: I know that everyone is supposed to love this couple and think that they're all great and they're going to have a baby and blah blah blah, but isn't their relationship kind of messed up? I mean, Mary always hectors Matthew into doing whatever she wants him to do and then, when there's something she wants to do she goes behind his back and goes to the doctor under a fake name so he won't know. She even has surgery on her lady parts and can't even tell him about it. This is her husband! She's supposed to share everything with him but something as important as them being able to have children and she can't even bring it up? She doesn't have to get into the gynecological details (no one wants that) but still. And he's no better, taking off to London in secret while she has to deal with her father getting all upset that her husband wants to change the entire estate around. I give her credit for standing by him while he and Branson modernize the joint, but if these two want to last, they need to think about how their relationship works.
Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
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My mother always told me that there are three things you should never talk about at a party: religion, politics, and money. I think that my dear mother is going to have to add a fourth thing to that list: Anne Hathaway. If you want to divide a room, just bring up the actress' name and watch the venom fly. People do not like Anne Hathaway. They use the word "hate" a lot when they talk about her. And their hatred is vehement, like Itchy's for Scratchy, like the Hatfields' for the McCoys, and Taylor Swift's for every man who she has ever talked to since her 15th birthday.
But just where does this Anne Hatha-hate come from? I never quite understood it. I always thought she was quite lovely — I love The Devil Wears Prada, and the one time I ran into her in a Manhattan gay bar (she's been known to hang out with her gay brother and his gaggle), she was quite charming. So where does all the vitriol come from?
"She's got this theater kid thing where she adopts the mood of every situation she's in — rude and bawdy on Chelsea Lately, poised and 'classy' at the Oscars, etc — but wildly overcompensates every time," says Richard Lawson, a friend and former colleague who now covers entertainment for The Atlantic Wire, who adds that his feelings stop short of "hate." "She always seems like she's performing, and her favorite act is this overstated humility and graciousness. I've known theater kids my whole life. I was a theater kid my whole life. She is the epitome of the bad kind of theater kid."
The "theater kid" sentiment was the reason I got from a majority of people I talked to about why they loathe this particular girl. (I found numerous willing subjects through a Twitter dragnet, most of which are just average Joes and not media or entertainment professionals.) Tommy, 28, from Brooklyn says, "She is the epitome of the annoying high school drama dork. An air of self importance masking all that boring." Megan, 30, also from Brooklyn, says, "Anne Hathaway is a theatre kid whose enthusiasm and earnestness was never reined in, and now she has an international stage from which to project from her diaphragm."
But what is so wrong with being a theater kid? Isn't Hollywood full of people who have wanted to become actors from a young age? What makes Anne specifically hatable? "I should have clarified that it's not just that she was a theater nerd," Abbey, 27, from Dallas says. "I know plenty of people who were into theater that I would be thrilled for them if they made it. Anne just has something that makes her unlikeable to me. I liked her in Devil Wears Prada and I did think she did a good job in Les Mis, but I did not care for her in other roles. I think she is miscast a lot."
I asked what the difference between Anne and another notorious "theater kid," Lea Michele, was and my coworker Anna Brand quipped, "A spray tan." ZING! Lawson sees it as something a bit more measured. "Anne Hathaway is better at hiding her blind, show-kid ambition," he says. "It's still there, but she's pretty practiced at covering it up. Whereas it oozes out of Lea Michele, probably because she's been playing a version of herself on TV for the past four years."
NEXT: Is Anne just too boring?
So maybe it has little to do with the sort of activities Hathaway enjoyed before her 17th birthday after all. "I think she's 100 percent inauthentic and insincere. Nothing she says or does feels real to me," says Sarah, 32, from New York. "And if it is real, she's even worse because she comes across as entitled, boring, and the last person I would ever want to share a meal with." Now, that's two people who think she is boring.
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But being a wet rag is the least of Ms. Hathaway's problems. Time and again, people raised questions about her authenticity. Either she seems like she's too enthusiastic or not enthusiastic at all, she's too humble and boring or she only pretends to be humble and boring, she's too much of a theater kid or she's trying to hide that she is. It all boils down to the fact that people don't seem to believe her. They don't trust the persona that she is putting out in public.
It seems like awards shows are doing her no favors. When asked what Anne's worst moment was, many Hathahaters named her performance at the Golden Globes (maybe because it was still fresh in their memories). "The Golden Globes speech takes the cake. Like, seriously? We should all be making fun of her," says Hollis, 36, from New York. Megan also agrees that the speech was awful. "I didn't buy it and she was incredibly annoying. I wanted her to stop ... and secretly kept hoping the music would play her out sooner."
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One of the common gripes about Hathaway is that she makes everything all about her, even when trying to come off as sweet and humble. And that was certainly present at the Globes when she got up on stage with the rest of the cast for Les Mis' big win and used the time to continue her acceptance speech. And during her Best Supporting Actress acceptance speech, she did herself no favors by calling the award a "lovely blunt object that I will forevermore use as a weapon against self-doubt." The rehearsed self-depreciation just drips off that phrase like an ice cream cone in July.
Okay, now even I'm starting to understand it. When Anne Hathaway is smiling next to (a stoned?) James Franco hosting the Oscars, she does not come across as someone with a lot of self-doubt. So when she says something like that (or "blergh," which many people also thought was her trying too hard), she seems false. But maybe that's just us projecting? Maybe we're thinking that someone talented and beautiful and rich can't have so much self-doubt — can she? She would like you to think she does.
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Not only is this Anne-amosity unstoppable, but it seems there is nothing that Ms. Hathaway can do (short of getting a new face, new voice, and new personality) to sway it. Ameya, 30, from New York has a rehabilitation plan for her image that he says would make his hatred go away, "She needs to lay low for a while (pull a Gwyneth Paltrow), grow her hair out, maybe start popping out kids with the new husband, take some great paparazzi shots to show us she's human/normal. I'd love for her to come back on the scene with a killer role and surprise us."
Like most intense emotions, hatred of Ms. Hathaway is nonsensical and will probably change with time. Maybe she can wait it out like a bad thunderstorm passing over a boat. But there is one thing that is certain: when she inevitably wins her Best Supporting Actress statue (and haters would lead you to believe that she's already dusting off a place on her mantle), the fury will erupt all over again.
Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
[Photo Credit: Hollywood.com Illustration]
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It's Hollywood week, and we're supposed to be floating on little clouds of Nicki Minaj's cotton candy hair and Mariah Carey's never-ending collection of butterfly accessories.We're supposed to be in heaven. But no. It's not that simple. American Idol has to be fresh and new, so they have to change all the rules of Hollywood week. What they don't seem to understand is they they just drew a mustache on the Mona Lisa of reality singing competition challenges.
Nigel Lythgoe waltzes out to tell a surprisingly husky group of competitors that the rules have changed this year. Rule 1: See how there are only men in this room? That's the first change. Just think of it as a middle school dance. Hollywood Week 1 is the wall where all the boys are standing, the one with the basketball scoreboard hovering above their heads. Hollywood Week 2 is the opposite wall, with all the girls twirling their hair while lingering close to the emergency exit. It's unnecessary, and it severely disrupts the usual ebb and flow of the dance of Hollywood week drama.
Rule 2: Producers choose the groups, no ifs, ands, or buts. Sure, in theory this means we'll get multitudes of groups butting heads rather than just the few that are comprised of shy guys, stragglers, and raging ego-maniacs, but in practice, it means continuous crimes against music, endless mild disagreement, and so much distraction that even some of the best singers in the competition are thrown off their game. It's a mess, and not the great kind. The worst result may be that terrible performances are rewarded with a second chance time and again this episode, perhaps as an acknowledgement that this new process was bad for everyone, but first, the judges did their best to thin out the herd in the initial sudden death speed round.
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Most important to note at this point in the competition are those folks who lost it all in a matter of seconds. First up was Karl Skinner, who we fell in love with in Oklahoma City only to let go too soon in a fit of Coca-Cola-driven fervor. Unfortunately, Karl shows himself to be all growl and no true vocals, and he's sent home along with the group of strange rapscallions (including a man who drops a paper heart with all the ceremony of Criss Angel releasing a dove while he delivers his emo audition). He's followed by the singing doctor a.k.a. Dr. Calvin Peters, who I chastised for leaving behind his job helping to heal burn victims to pursue fame when we met him back in Charlotte. Next comes cutie-patootie firefighter Dustin Watts who was always lovable, but rather generic in this mixed bag of contestants.
Next comes the challenge. Cortez Shaw shows up with too much confidence for his own good, attempting to belt out the Whitney Houston classic "I Will Always Love You." And it's not good. His off-key, cocky performance starts a debate among the judges when Mariah inexplicably likes him (girl, is your falsetto range affecting your brain?). Nicki actually says she is "disgusted" and Randy says the only thing the kid needed to hear: "You ain't Whitney." Yet somehow, this cocky little smart-ass gets another shot at the big time. Sure, he sang a much tougher song than anyone else, but he clearly knows nothing about his vocal ability and that spells elimination.
The fake-outs continue as Nicki carries out a few jokes of her own. Her first victim is Bryant Tadeo, who she gets to admit he's tired so she can tell him "It's good that your tired because you're going to have a lot of time to sleep now that we're sending you home." But it's all a cruel ruse, Bryant's just dealing with a little emotional trauma now. No big deal. At least Bryant got a lesson in being grateful and excited about Idol. Oh and also, there's the part where he gets to stay. That's not bad either.
Lastly, we watch Brian Rittenberry, whose adorable wife survived cancer and then spent the second half of his audition sweetly fawning over Keith Urban. He attempts to country-fy Brian McKnight's "Back at One," and while he's still got strength and sweetness, it's clear the rough quality of his voice is serving to camouflage the lack of vocal ability. The lovable lug is sent home, and it's not pleasant to watch his dreams crash, the show is about singing and it was the right thing to do to let him go. It's a skill our judges only seem to have half of the time as auditions continue.
Almost as suddenly as it rehearsals began (because there was no time devoted to the cruel, yet fascinating process of self-selecting groups), the performances were underway, undercutting the vicious footage we've come to expect. It's probably better for our souls this way, but we were okay with the consequences of verbal sparring and bullys bested by their more talented teammates. Luckily, not everything has changed. We still get the requisite bathroom rehearsal. Unnecessary beat-boxing (unless you're Justin Timberlake or Blake Lewis, beat-boxers need not apply, but oh boy do they ever). We're also treated to an ego-crushing wake-up reel of the contestants before they've prettied themselves. Well, everyone except for Johnny Keyser, who apparently rolls out of bed with perfectly feathered hair and a cavalier attitude. And while even I'm jealous of his charmed life, full of eyes so sparkly they blind the sun and hair so naturally perfect it should be in a museum, his wake-up routine isn't exactly the highlight of Hollywood week. Then again, I'm not really sure what was.
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First group of the night is Mathheads, comprised of Matenee Treco, Matheus Fernandes, Gabe Brown, and Nick Bodington. After milking Matheus's tale of shortness for all it's worth (even having the kid lay on his bed so he could put his hopes out into the ether, "God, please help me. I've been waiting so long for this," even though he just had a fairly sizable shot on Ryan Murphy's The Glee Project. Matenee's got a case of the crazy eyes, Gabe has an issue or two with really singing out when he's not using his gutteral growl, Matheus rocks out like it's still 1984 and Van Halen is the pinnacle of musical fame, and Nick is simply so overshadowed by his cohorts that I couldn't remember a distinguishing factor about him if I tried. "Somebody to Love" by Queen earns them all another shot at the top 24, but I'm still wary of Matheus and his seemingly out of control ego.
Johnny Keyser, his pretty face, and his group take on a song that he didn't actually know, because he doesn't listen to human music, just the sounds of a million angels singing directly into his ear. "Reach Out (I'll Be There)" may be a classic Four Tops song that most fans of aural joy have heard at least once in their lives, provides a problem for Johnny in that it is a total blind spot. It means a complete jumble of misguided voices for Johnny's group.Johnny forgets his lyrics, but manages to keep on humming. Kareen Clark has the words down, but he's flatter than a piece of plywood. The harmonies are awful. Despite the fact that Aussie Keith can't believe that he knows a song that all-American kid Johnny doesn't, Johnny is sent on through while the other move on. Of course they keep the hot guy. This is Hollywood after all. What's Tinseltown without a few attractive people to keep us interested? (A town full of talented people who were judged fairly? Who wants that.)
And the disappoint keeps on keeping on. Curtis Finch and his unbelievable gospel/R&amp;B voice have made him one of the voices to beat in the competition, but as it turns out, he's kind of a jerk. When his assigned teammate, scrawny little pop-punk-loving Charlie, gets sick, Curtis sees it as an opportunity to do better for himself, with the kid out of the way. Their third teammate does everything he can to help Charlie, even admitting it to the camera while Curtis stood aside expressionless, totally aware that taking credit for helping Charlie would be unwise after the truth had been caught on camera. When the trio performs, however, you'd never know there was an issue among them, but Curtis's capable runs are tinged with the knowledge that he would have let that poor kid hang out to dry if he needed to. Apparently, he didn't get the memo about everything he says being taped and presented to America so that they might one day choose to vote (or more likely not vote) for the guy who was too ambitious to help a guy in need. Naturally, the judges don't know about his backstage antics and they're wowed, sending all three through while Mariah inflated Curtis' ego by telling him she's been waiting all day to hear him sing. With a victory on his hands, Curtis is all team spirit suddenly, but I can't imagine that would be the case if the song had put him in danger. If only she wasn't right about his talent. Selfish or not, the guy can destroy any song he touches.
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Two more relatively boring groups squeak on by, giving speech-impediment sufferer Micah Johnson and his teammates Vincent Powell, Marvin Calderon, and David Willis a ticket to the next round. Also raking in the luck was sign language teacher Nate Tao's group of leather-jacket-lovers, who all went easily to the next round, even Cortez, despite his tendency to hop into off-key territory during "Some Kind of Wonderful." If Cortez keeps getting through, we're going to have the male equivalent of Karen Rodriguez on our hands again.
While we wade through two groups who can't even muster up a fraction of the lyrics to either "What Makes You Beautiful" (only the most infection pop song courtesy of the biggest boy band on the planet, One Direction) or any number of other well-known songs during this, a singing competition presumably filled with folks so set on singing they might want to listen to artists other than themselves. Two groups of lyric-losers come through and only Paul Jolley and Will White survive.
B-Side or the group formerly known as Three Men and a Baby (get it, because that one kid is 15 and the rest of the dudes are strapping men!), try a little Maroon 5 and Keith comes to his fellow reality judge Adam Levine's defense: "Adam Levin isn't dead yet, but he's alredy rolling over in his grave." Morbid, Urban. Gupreet Singh Sarin, Nicki's favorite "Turbanator" from New York, leads the group, many of whom forget the lyrics completely while Sarin at least fills his empty lyrical space with some scatting. The sounds are simply cacophonic and even though Gupreet does his best to salvage his flub, he's not much stronger than he was during auditions when Nicki had to beg her fellow judges to give him a shot. Yet somehow, the judges deliberate and come out with the idea that these guys, who blew their group audition, deserve another chance. Even Gupreet looks confused as Nicki exclaims her joy over her "baby group" living to see another day of competition. She says she pushes them through because "we are humans and we forget the lyrics, but it's about what you do in those moments that makes you a star," and we hear you, Nicki, but these guys don't seem to be the ones to use that card up on. Hopefully, I'm wrong and they heed Randy's command to simply "be better next time." Some act of God spared this undeserving group, but hopefully it will lead to somewhat of a small miracle when it comes time for solo Hollywood auditions tomorrow.
Suddenly, some glaring choice (that occurred in the last paragraph and surprised all of us) makes the judges realize they have to get tough and soon. Luckily, they are served up a nice hot plate of terrible singing to get them in the cutting mood. Last Minute, a group that included Jason Jones, Dan Wood, Jessie Lawrence, and some guy the producers didn't see a need to call by name forget their words and quite possibly how to sing, forcing Randy to burst, "How do I even judge this?" He doesn't really have to, and send the whole lot home.
Carrying on with the snooze train is a group organized by Ryan Conner Smith, who gets the singers to perform a cappella. The judges hate the lack of musical accompaniment, and Ryan's innovation (and lack of vocal prowess) is what sends him home while the rest of his group stays. Perhaps he should have heeded his vocal coach (and Katharine McPhee's mom) when she cast a disapproving look at the mention of an a cappella audition.
Burnell Taylor from Baton Rouge is known as the guy who made Mariah cry during auditions, but during Hollywood week, his group's "Some Kind of Wonderful" almost made her cry for another reason. Burnell doesn't know the words, and his vocals are suffering. Yet memories of his past performances apparently keep him alive, during the round that is supposed to be judged at face value and he and his teammate Tony Foster Jr. are safe while their cohorts pack up.
Finally, as the end of the episode approaches, the drama begins to emerge. Super 55, socially-challenged stutterer Lazaro Arbos' group is having issues. And if you ask Josh Stevens, it's because they're all spending too much time trying to fix Lazaro because he's "not from around here" and his stutter makes it hard to communicate. While Lazaro is concerned that his teammates take his speech issue as a symptom of deficient mental ability, Josh is the one showing off just how stupid he can be. Who's the one Nicki loves so much, she made a heart with her hands in his general direction during the sudden death round? Oh, Lazaro. That's right. Pipe down, Joshie. While Josh worries some more, Ryan Seacrest's voice-over hopes the group doesn't become a statistic (which is impossible because they're by default already a statistic. This isn't an STD prevention PSA. "Becoming a statistic" doesn't mean bad things happen to you.) And the only people in danger of statistichood turned out to be Josh and his buddy in bullying, Scott Fleenor, who plays the flat singer to Josh's boring 1950s sock-hop attendee. Lazaro and his teammate Christian Lopez (With the dreamy blue eyes and sultry, seductive singing voice) are the only ones worth watching, and when the voting is done, the judges only leave the talented ones standing. Scott simply sulks, but Josh takes this golden opportunity to right the wrongs he's committed since group rehearsals started to be a total ass. "If anything, you should be going on. We spent so much time perfecting what you needed to be doing," was all he could say through his tears to Lazaro before he parted ways with the talented young lad.
But Idol had more than one group tailor-made for total implosion. Country Queen pitted two eccentric young men against two strapping young country singers, one of whom has a serious issue with men who don't chop down trees or stomp around in muddy boots. JDA and Joel Wayman drive Army man Trevor Blakney nutty with their focus on showmanship, but his real problem seems to be the various ways in which both men are less attached to traditional expressions of gender. While they're completely willing to listen to his needs as a member of the group, Trevor is convinced his teammates are ignoring him and he flatout refuses to participate in the lyrical workshop that he whined so desperately for, complaining that he didn't want to "put on dresses and put glitter on." And his intolerance of people unlike himself (something producers were counting on) costs him his pride and his spot in the competition. He forgets his lyrics, while his glitter-wearing teammate JDA focuses on vocals and wins the judges approval. Everyone in the group, including so-so country singer Lee Pritchard make it through while Trevor heads home to pout about never having lost anything before. Well, my dear boy, the thing about winning is that it doesn't happen when you sit on your rear end complaining for an entire round of a cutthroat competition.
And just when it seems the judges' vow to be tougher isn't quite as strong as they made it sound, Cystic Fibrosis afflicted 15-year-old Kayden Stephenson comes to the stage with his group, which includes a mature and much more polished David Leathers Jr. (he was eliminated at the top 24 cut off last season), is up with "For the Longest Time." Idol placed all four members of DSDK together because, oh aren't they cute, they're all the youngest in the competition. Each of the youngsters delivers at the very least descent solos until it comes time for Kayden's turn. A quick shot of Mariah while Kayden flounders with his sweet, child's voice on stage makes the diva look like she's just seen something horrific. This sweet little survivor is crashing and burning before her eyes and she can't handle the thought of what the judges are going to have to tell him. Luckily, he's not sent home alone, alone Sanni M'Mairura and David make it through, but it's still heartbreaking to watch little Kayden trudge on home. While his story was awe-inspiring, it was clear during his first audition that his voice wasn't strong enough for the competition, yet the show couldn't resist sending him through and pumping him for failure. He should never have made it to the televised round of auditions; it was clear he wasn't strong enough. Yet in the end, Nicki has to convince Mariah (and any backstory-clinging viewers) that sending him home was the right thing to do. Yes, it was hard watching the panel send home a cancer survivor with an amputated leg after he wasn't good enough for the competition, but it's less difficult than watching him step even closer to his dream before it's taken away. Rip the bandaid off early, or we're left feeling horrible for a young kid who was advanced unfairly because his story looked great as an episode endcap.
Finally, the night ends in tears when Frankie Ford, who won us over with his story about singing for change on the subway in New York, lets the pressures of a contentious group mar his ability to use his God-given voice. Placed in a group with powerhouse Charles Allen, unstoppable personality Papa Peachez, and constant surprise Adam Sanders, Frankie is faced with a smorgasbord of musical variety. He could, as the least experienced member of the group, use it to learn. But instead, he spends the whole rehearsal period complaining that they don't listen to him, driving him to tears just minutes before it's time to perform. Oz, as they decide to call themselves, serves up a performance that's the vocal equivalent of the junk drawer. Nothing fits together, however great the value in each individual piece. Peachez is weak, clearly shaken up by the group dynamic. Adam does okay, but ultimately rescues his performance with a suggestive joke. And Charles is the only solid performer, pulling out a few high notes and impressive runs. Frankie, however, cries on stage, forgets his lyrics, and eventually gives up mid-phrase. Even if his story is admirable and moves us and his voice is a good one, this is not the behavior or attitude of someone who can win Idol. He's cut loose while Peachez earns another chance thanks to Nicki's incessant begging, but that's not the last we hear of the supposedly sweet singer from New York. He bursts out of auditions, barreling away from his friends and yelling about how he'll come back and win, but it's his line "They will not deny me" that is of concern. Frankie, you're a good singer, but no one, not even American Idol owes you a win or an instant ticket to fame. He can come back again, but unless he fixes that attitude, it's going to be the same story all over again.
With all that surprisingly lackluster nonsense out of the way, Thursday will deliver the solo Hollywood round, also known as the place contestants start to have their big moments (you know, those performances that seem to make the sky open up just so angels can come down and flutter around the singer on the stage?). There will be a bit of drama here and there, but what we're looking for isn't a fight or a hissy fit. We're looking for some kind of wonderful.
Of course, it will be strange to go through this process once more with the ladies next week. Hopefully, they don't leave us with such ardent fits of boredom as the menfolk.
Follow Kelsea on Twitter @KelseaStahler
[Photo Credit: Fox]
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There is a strange connection between the Real Slot Machines of Desperation Canyon and Las Vegas. It's like Sin City is their rollicking id, where they often go (and where some make their money) and where all sorts of crazy action happens. It's not hookers and blow and gambling and strippers and magic shows like it is for everyone else, but there is some sort of sorcery at work when the ladies take the trip. They are all transformed into something else — fighting wildebeests scratching their hooves at the desert floor looking to unearth each other's secrets. What is certain is that what happens in Vegas never stays in Vegas.
The ostensible reason for the trip to Vegas was so that Brandi could teach everyone how to be a stripper to empower them. This makes, um, total sense, I guess? I don't know. If you want to learn how to pole dance, just learn how to pole dance. Do we really need the excuse that it is somehow going to solve all the problems in your life? I don't think so. It's probably not. But it is a fun reason to get drunk with all of your girlfriends.
Of course some of the ladies were better at it than others. St. Camille of Grammer, patron saint of cable television dance shows, didn't know how to pole dance, but she knows how to move that lean, lithe body of hers. She hovered around that pole shaking like a wraith or an angel. Definitely an angel. We could see her halo, halo, halo-oooo, as Beyoncé would sing. Lisa Vanderpump said she didn't want to pole dance, but, supporting her friend Brandi, she gamely climbed up there and turned it into a comedy routine. Isn't that just a metaphor for Lisa Vanderpump's life? Isn't that just how she lives from day to day, taking the unpleasants and turning them into little laughs? I guess it's easy when you sleep on a bed of diamonds at night. Yolanda Bananas Foster was deftly adroit, as a woman who mostly cages herself in her home adhering to a staunch workout routine would be. Kyle Richards, as always, made it all about her. She can't dance or work the pole, but she laughed and cackled and yelled and put on a good performance just like her mother taught her in those stuffy audition rooms back when she was still in pig tails. OH! Kyle would have looked so good on that pole in pig tails. The worst, of course, was Fetch (aka Marisa Zanuck), who is never going to happen. She whined and complained about doing it because, yes, that is what makes good TV. God, Fetch is never going to happen. Are we really going to be burdened with her face, which looks like the inside of one of Yolanda's lemons, for the rest of the season?
The one good thing that Fetch did last night was try to clean a red wine stain out of her dioley skirt using white wine, because it's a trick she saw Barbra Streisand do at a party once. Really? She crazy! Does she think that Barbra's talons have touched a single piece of laundry since she moved out of Brooklyn all those years ago? No! The worst part is, they didn't even show us if it worked or not, because if it did I was totally going to steal it and tell people that I saw Barbra Streisand do it at a party once and then I would seem so cool and smart and awesome. Now I'm just going to pick on Fetch for doing it.
I guess we need to mention Adrienne, the Queen of the Maloofs (a race of mole people that live under the mountain). She has just been grasping for relevancy the past few weeks while she's licked her wounds, and she didn't want to interact with anyone because they all found out that she (allegedly, possibly, according to the Internet, which is never right about anything except when it is right about some things) gave birth to her children using a surrogate. Either that or she is DB Cooper. Her big secret is one of those two things. Adrienne needed something to do, and decided on designing a handbag line to go along with her ever-so-successful shoe line (which you can purchase at 65% off on the Internet). She had some people at the California Accessory Council and Teen Runaway Shelter mock up a logo for her. All the bags are going to have her name on them, but the logo is going to be all the letters of her name jumbled up like they have floated to the top of a bowl of alphabet soup and just congealed there. When you look at the purse you think it's made by LERENNIOFOAMAD. That's not very good branding.
And if that weren't enough, then she had to take her husband, Paulo the Chimp, to get laser hair removal on his back. That is a really mean thing to do to a chimp. Do you know what a hairless chimp looks like? Macaulay Culkin, that's what. No one wants that. But know who I do want? Jjennifferr Holliddayy, the technician who was brandishing the laser that would singe off all of Paulo's estimable back hair. First of all there are far too many consonants in her name. Wheel of Fortune never wants her to be famous because she would cost them too much money if she was the answer to a puzzle. Also, I believe that she was a Bulgarian pop singer that, after too much inexpensive plastic surgery in Georgia (the country, not the home of Lenethia Leakes) she was deported to America to live a life of shame. At least she got her aesthetician's degree and is now serving the world by ridding chimps of their fur. That is very noble of her.
Now I guess it's time we get to last night's main event. I guess it's appropriate that all the biggest fights in the boxing world happen in Vegas because, well, this was a humdinger. You knew it was going to be bad when Yolanda Bananas Foster, an agorophobic who claims to not like drunk women, was drinking tequila and Fetch, who had already poured red and white wine all over her skirt at Barbra Streisand's insistence, was essentially absent from dinner. Oh, and Brandi had on this hot silver dress that was just short enough to be sexy but not so short that we could see her halo, halo, halo-ooooo and it was just sparkly and totally wonderful. I have a theory that whenever Brandi looks the best is when she gets in the worst fights. Watch for it to happen.
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OK, here is how it went down: everyone was talking about Kim Richards, and how they know that her nose is a new nose from some guy they know she knows knows noses. Then, suddenly, St. Camille turned the discussion to Adrienne which, well, that was a stupid move. As my friends would say, "Why you gotta bring up old shit?" How do we accurately describe this fight? Camille was angry, I don't know about what initially. But she wanted to talk about Adrienne. So she did. Then Brandi, for the millionth time, detailed that she was uncomfortable when Adrienne approached her and said she was going after Lisa at the reunion and was trying to recruit her. Apparently Camille was somehow involved in this too, and Brandi told everyone that Camille knew about the sabotage plot. Camille got all pissed off that Brandi was telling everyone, especially Lisa, that she know about the plot and didn't do anything. She got up from the table and said, "I can handle this, but I won't stand for it!" What a statement. That's amazing. She was basically saying, "I could take you down if you want to, but this is too tawdry for me to sit and listen to."
Instead of talking about what happened and who said what, we should talk about the winners and losers, maybe? Who was right and who was wrong? I think that's easier. OK, so Brandi, I think, came out a loser. Yes, I am #TeamBrandi all the way, and I think that Adrienne is the worst kind of rich person for using her money and lawyers to intimidate Brandi by "suing her."
Oh wait, what's this? I just got hand delivered a message. "Dear Mr. Moylan. It has just come to my attention that you are besmirching the name of my client, HRH Adrienne, the Queen of the Maloofs (a race of mole people that live under the mountain), in a public sphere. If you do not cease and desist not only your discussion of her, her family, her friends, her associates, and anyone that might ever come in contact with her in this world or any other in your public position, then there will be a lawsuit. Also, you should probably just shut down this here recap right now, because it will be admissable in a court of law and a judge will hate it. Sincerely, Dirk Jacobini, Attorney at Law."
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Screw that. I'm going to talk as much trash about Adrienne as I want. She's wrong to pursue this nonsense with Brandi when Brandi was speaking the truth. But what makes Brandi a loser is she went on the "Adrienne only owns 2% of the Palms" kick. Yeah. So what, Brandi? Not to be a jerk, but you own 100% of Jack Squat Industries. Adrienne's stake in a billion-dollar business is still $10 million. How much did you get for your book deal?
The other loser was Camille Grammer, who then went after Lisa with her, "You don't own SUR," line which, I think we can all agree is patently false. Lisa only owns 51% of that Sexy Unique Restaurant, but come on, that's basically owning it. Camille was trying to make a point. I get it, but she failed. I think that Kyle and Camille were right to say that Adrienne wasn't there and she couldn't defend herself and that's why they were sticking up for her. That's cool, I get that, but Kyle is not helping her reputation as a shit stirrer. She's always trying to be the peace keeper and make sure everyone is getting along, but as soon as the gloves come on, she's there in the corner fighting an argument.
I would like to say Yolanda Bananas Foster was a loser, for shushing our St. Camille (which is something you should never do), but she had a point. This was the third time this fight had gone round and round, and the third dinner that it had ruined, and we're all just getting a little bit sick of it, aren't we? Don't we want there to be some kind of resolution or movement? Oh, and Yolanda got to go home early in a private jet while everyone else had to sit around and stew in their own juices (Housewife juices smell like white wine and broken endorsement deals). See ya later, suckers! However, I think that Yolanda loses existentially, because she has no idea what show she is on. This is a battle royale where women get drink and yell at dinner. That's sort of like planning a trip to the beach and then complaining that there is too much sand. If you don't want the sand, get off the damn beach.
Lisa Vanderpump was also a winner here, because this whole fight started about her but somehow migrated around the table and encompassed everyone but her. The one kernel of truth that Camille placed out there — the thing that started this whole row — was that Adrienne started going after Lisa because of two things: 1. Adrienne was mad that Lisa's daughter Pandora had her Vegas bachelorette party at a hotel other than the Palms and 2. Adrienne was mad that Lisa called her shoe "The Maloof Hoof." OK, those are the two dumbest reasons ever. The first one, I have said before, will go down in history as the dumbest gripe on any Housewives show ever. Who cares where Pandora went? It was her decision, not her mother's. People don't blame my mother for my public urination arrest, so no one should blame Pandy's mom for her bachelorette party.
The second reason was the real problem. No one in this universe (and by that I mean the Real Housewives universe, which is strange and separate from our own) has a sense of humor. Well, most of them don't. Brandi does and Lisa sure does and when they say something like that, it is a joke. Adrienne can not take a joke. That is what this whole season is essentially about: one grown woman who can't take another woman's clever pun about her shoe. The reason they aren't selling has nothing to do with what Lisa called them on the show. They're not selling because they're bland and ugly and overpriced (even 65% off is too much). In fact, calling them the "Maloof Hoof" was the best bit of branding anyone did for Adrienne. She should pay Lisa for that.
The fight petered out and just ended for some reason. I'm not sure why. Maybe Yolanda squashed it with her lemon-scented lips. The real take-away from the end of the episode was that we saw Kyle and Lisa face off, telling their sides of the story. This was the real fight. This was the real angle that the show is taking, these two Titans trying to steal the world from each other. That is what this season wants us to take away from it. If their relationship ruptures, well, it will be an awful horrible split. A rift that will engulf Jill and Bethenny, Kim and Nene, Tamra and Vicki and all the rest. Like an explosion.
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Finally, we have to talk about Kim. Oh yes, my favorite Kim Richards got a new nose installed last night. I'm not going to get into all that drama with her addiction and taking pain pills, because that was just a red herring. She told us she was going to try to not take any pain pills (well, at least anything stronger than an Advil), and I have to believe her. I'm not a family member who has been screwed over repeatedly by her lying and drug abuse so it's easy for me, but, there it is. I'm trusting her. As for her call with Kyle, it was extremely fraught.
Kim called Kyle while she was in Las Vegas and said, "I'm thinking of getting a nose job today." What? OK, Kim. You do not need your sister's permission, but you also didn't need to call her up on the day you were doing it and ask for it. Here's the thing. Kim thought that she needed Kyle's permission — that's why she called and asked, and didn't just call and tell her. I think Kyle has made Kim think that Kim needs her permission for everything, and now Kim is getting over that. When Kyle talks about how this is the "state of our relationship" it means that Kim is growing up, growing away from Kyle, and becoming her own, unique, strong person.
But Kim needed a nose job like Yolanda needs another lemon tree. She even said it herself, that God made her and she's perfect but he wouldn't mind her changing her nose so much because when he made her it was the end of the day and he wasn't really paying attention and used some spare parts anyway. But Kim needed something. She knew she needed someone who knows why she knows someone that knows noses. She knew that she needed to make herself better inside and out. She needed some physical manifestation of her inner transformation. Get on it, girl. And when the doctor was digging around in there he found that her septum was deviated, which probably means that she could now get her health insurance to cover the cost. You go Kim.
But the sad part came when she was lying in the hospital, coming out of the aenesthesia. The show's producers love these moments, because the women always say ridiculous things and can't help but tell the truth. Kim said some remarkable things. She lied there in her hospital gown and mumbled that she wished her sister were there. She mumbled that she wished that one of her four children were there. But there was no one. She was all alone, fighting through the fog on her own. So many people have come and gone, the husbands, the lovers, the family, that rock she painted a face on and named Ken and called her boyfriend. They've all gone, sniffed out like the moon falling behind a dark, dank cloud.
Suddenly, in that way only medication can do, she isn't in the world anymore. She is both awake and asleep and she's in her trailer on the Disney lot and it's the last day of a movie shoot. She's young again, and beautiful. Her hair is teased high and she's wearing bright makeup because it was the '80s and that was the style. She looks down at her vanity and sees the crimping iron and then she looks up at the mirror and sees her old nose and all the people standing behind her. The crew mostly, but fans all. And staff. They're clamoring for her. "Sign this for me please, Kim?" "It was so great working with you!" "What is our next project going to be?" "You better hurry up or you're going to be late for your first date with this hot new actor, I think his name is Jimmy Depp." "Oh, Kim this has been the best two months of my life."
She thanks them all and signs them and waives. She waves and makes her way through the scrum and out the door into the sun which is so bright it's like an operating lamp blaring down at her eyes. Even when she closes them, she can still see the indistinct brightness shining down into her face, over the clean, expansive lines of the sound studio. "Kim! Kim! Kim!" all the onlookers shout at her. "Kim! Kim!" She turns around and waves at them, but the sun is still in her eyes. She can't see them anymore, but she can hear the voices, hear them getting fainter and fainter as they recede. "Bye everyone," she says. "Don't forget. I love you. Will you love me too? Love me forever and I'll remember. Don't forget. Don't forget. Don't forget," she says to all the disembodied dream people. "Don't forget me," she says out loud.
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Yes, everyone, Lady Sybil is still dead. Unlike Matthew's fickle paralysis and the waddle below the Dowager Countess' neck there is not going to be any changing that. And everyone continues to be so, so very sad now that she's gone. There were more pale faces on the show than in a consumption ward in a Charles Dickens novel. There were just as many jails too. God, can we just get Bates out of jail already? I continue to not care one lick about this storyline at all. I mean a vital young woman can have a baby and die in half an episode and they can't even figure out how to get one poor loser out of the clink in over four? Seriously!
Well, there were plenty of things to love and hate in this episode, so let's get right down to it, shall we?
LOVE
Ethel Can't Cook: It's so sweet that Isobel gave Old Pro Ethel a job as her maid and I love that she's a terrible cook. Poor Isobel, always the Christian martyr can't admit to herself or others when she's made a terrible mistake. It's when that annoying friend of yours in college went vegan and the first time her birthday rolled around and she got a vegan cupcake and you watch the pained expression on her face as she tries to get that congealed sawdust with too much sugar down her gob. I love that face.
The Way Mrs. Hughes Says Ethel: I'm not quite sure how it's different but it's like the combination of a sneer and a vocal twirl. Like she wants to disparage her and herald her arrival at the same time. Mostly it's the drawn out "lllllll" at the end of her voice.
Edith's Seat at the Table: For whatever stupid antiquated reason Edith, my heroine in journalistic integrity, is not allowed to eat breakfast in bed because she's not married, but when all the men are sitting around at breakfast discussing the fate of Sybil's child, she's the only woman in the house with a voice in the discussions. Funny how my darling Edith is more powerful than ever.
William's Father Loves a Lady: Isn't it so nice that William, the footman who died in WW I and was so idiotic that he was obsessed with Daisy (and how many times did we have to hear her annoying Cockney say, "But Aye don't luv 'im!"), hooked his beloved blushing bride up with his father? Isn't it so nice that this working man has figured out that Downton and all the great houses are just waiting to be scrapped for bricks or turned into museums once PBS shows make them famous and fat Americans journey hours by plane and light rail to see them? Don't you love that he wants to leave his farm to a woman to run? Don't you love how modern he is? Don't you wish he'd be more modern with a woman we love and not, you know, stupid Daisy?
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The Luck of the Irish: Of course Branson, like a good Irish man, only wants to farm sheep on his little farm that Matthew offers to give him. (And seriously, Branson, for the good of future seasons and your muscles stretching out undershirts and work shirts and filling out a pair of overalls, you should really take the damn farm.) Have you ever been to Ireland? The only think you'll see more of than green, rain, and drunk driving PSAs are freaking sheep. There are no real crops, other than potatoes, shamrocks, and some sort of grain that they use to make the most delicous brown bread in the entire world. (Note to my Irish readers: If you send me a loaf of brown bread, I will drive all the snakes out of your country.) And then, as if to make himself sound even more Irish, he says that he's just going to get a cousin of his to help him take care of his daughter. If there is one thing that the Irish have more than sheep it's layabout cousins.
The Lord of Nothing: Oh god, how awful is Lord Grantham this season? He's just so awful and old fashioned and no one is listening to him and everything he says is just stupid and wrong-headed and gets Mary's panties in a wad more than Edith spitting in her split pea soup. Cora won't forgive him for what he did to Sybil, he won't relinquish any control of the estate to Matthew even though he realizes he's the fool who put them in this position in the first place, and he has a total conniption when Branson says he wants his daughter to be Catholic. I know it's hard to change, but he needs an attitude adjustment like Jimmy Kent needs a lesson on how to wind the clocks. The one good part came when he accused Mary of being against him and (that spoiled brat) Mary says "I"m never against you, but you've lost on this one." It's not that she's against him it's that she, and everyone else, it seems, is against everything he believes in. If he's going to keep behaving like this, I'm glad everyone is treating him like crap.
No One Cares About Ethel: The only two people who care that Ethel was a whore are Carson and Lord Grantham and all the other women and whatnot are like, "Whatever, she sold it and now she's getting her life together. That's no crime. But you should taste her Salmon Mousse. They should lock her away with Bates for serving that." It's probably just that Carson and Our Lord are the only two that have hired hookers in the past so they're feeling some sort of projected guilt.
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HATE
Branson's Attire: This was the guy who refused to wear anything but his ratty tweed suit to his sister-in-law (and former employer's) wedding and now he's wearing some fancy mourning jacket (not to be confused with a morning jacket or My Morning Jacket) without any sort of fuss. Come on now. That's just crazy.
Ethel Gets Help: Mrs. Pattmore, I expected more of you. I know you're a nice lady, but should you really go down there helping Ethel to learn how to cook? No, you should not. You should be at home in your kitchen shoving Daisy's hands on one of the burners.
Salmon Mousse: Who would ever want to eat something called Salmon Mousse?! It sounds like that pink slime that fast food restaurants make hamburgers out of that caused a national scandal recently.
Lady Mary's Gossip: How is it that Lady Mary always knows some key bit of information that she deploys at just the right moment and things always go her way. She finds out about Lavinia's letter so that Matthew gives all her money to save Downton. She finds out Sybil wanted her daughter to be Catholic and then tells everyone about that. I don't know about you, but if I was in that Crawley family I would begin to get suspicious of Mary's well-timed pronouncements, wouldn't you?
Chef Edith: Don't make Edith learn how to cook. That's just cruel for the poor girl.
Jimmy's Gay Panic: I don't know that I like where this Jimmy and Thomas storyline is going. I love that O'Brien is clamly instigating Thomas' demise because of what he did to (her son?) Alfred, because I am a bitch and I think plotting like that is fun to watch. However, as an American homosexual, I don't enjoy that Jimmy is getting all creeped out whenever Thomas touches him. I also don't like that Thomas is being so handsy with this young man when he's shown no indication that he wants to be touched. This is going to end either one of two ways. Either we're going to find out that Jimmy, like Thomas, is gay and the reason he's so uncomfortable is because he's working out some issues of his own or, like O'Brien hopes, Thomas is going to go too far and Jimmy is going to bludgeon Thomas to death with a poker. I hope it's the former and not the latter. And if it is the latter, can we forget about him to rot in jail so that it's not all dragged out and awful like the whole Bates storyline?
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Bates' Lost Statement: Speaking of the awful Bates storyline, I said I wasn't going to talk about it anymore because it bores me so much, but I have to bring it up for a second to talk about a pattern of behavior on the show that I absolutely loathe. Mr. Murray, the lawyer, goes to see that mean old lady who saw the dead Mrs. Bates baking a pie and somehow proves that Bates is innocent (we don't care how just so that this will stop). We see Mr. Murray go to talk to her and she is especially uncooperative. Then we see him come to Anna and say, "I got her to make a statement. Bates will be freed." Say what? How did you do it? How did she change her mind? When is this going to happen? Why can't you show us! Yes, this is a television show. On a television show we all watch things. Do you know what someone telling you about something that happened is? It is not watching, it is hearing. Do you know where you hear things? On the radio. We aren't listening to the radio. It's time that Downton starts with more showing and less telling. They had the same problem when Mary was like, "Matthew, I opened your secret letter and I read it," and we never got to see it. That is ridiculous. Save all these stupid things for the audiobook. In the meantime, why not show us the key events that drive along the plot, no matter how ludicrous or tedious those plots may be.
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[Photo Credit: Masterpiece]